"Leave me now, I beseech you;"

and her address to the Stranger

"My Lord,"

are affecting in the introduction of the scene in the extreme, and given with uncommon pathos. The manner also in which she pronounces, and the look with which she accompanies

"Then nothing now remains but that one sad, hard, just word-farewell!"

are irresistibly touching. The fine incidents also in descanting on the jewels which are employed by the poet, and so happily and impressively expressed by Miss O'Neill, to work on the affections of her husband, were never represented in so superior a manner as by Miss O'Neill. The melting softness of voice, the tender, pathetic, and expressive look of agonizing regret, and the noble refusal with which it concludes, had irresistible charms on the senses of the audience.

"How well do I recollect the sweet evening when you gave me these! That evening, my father joined our

hands; and joyfully I pronounced the oath of eternal
fidelity. It is broken. This locket, you gave me on
my birth-day-That was a happy day! We had a
country feast-How cheerful we all were ! -- This
bracelet, I received after my William was born!-
No! take them-take them-I cannot keep these,
unless you
wish that the sight of them should be an

incessant reproach to my almost broken heart.

The agitation also, on the Stranger's pronouncing

the word

"Farewell,"

with which she entreats

"Oh! but one minute more! An answer to but one more question.-Feel for a mother's heart!-Are my children still alive?"

harrow the very soul, and excite every energy of it in unison with her captivating powers.

The extasy of happy feeling with which the play concludes, and the pity awakened by the noble mind and generous feelings of the husband and wife, make us alive only to the present situation, and forget equally the crime and the breach of mo

rality which it inculcates. To this her powers are

confined.

GRECIAN DAUGHTER.

The only unequal attempt which Miss O'Neill has made is in her next character, the Grecian Daughter, in Murphy's tragedy of that name. It is founded on a celebrated Grecian story of the tyrant Dionysius of Syracuse, and though it is a tragedy not without many defects, the character of the heroine interests so strongly from the excess of filial affection, as to render it highly popular.

The excess of filial affection, however, is here of the most elevated nature, and requires a command of the greatest physical powers, such as the constitution and disposition of Miss O'Neill is not adequately fitted to accomplish: yet even here we may have much to praise. Her attempt was a daring happy beyond expectation; and if she failed in reaching the summit of the sublime, it was not from want of a just conception of the character,

but from what nature has denied. Her's is the empire of the soft emotions, and the character of Euphrasia is one of masculine energies, of pre-eminent courage and virtues; one that, in fact, towers above the delicacy, we shall not say weaknesses, of her sex. She is cast in a Spartan mould, and pos

sesses all that enthusiasm of filial affection which so much distinguished those ancient days, when the relation betwixt the parent and child was preferred to every other duty, and was the greatest recommendation in an heroic character. Thus Euphrasia exclaims

"Could I desert my father? Could I leave
The venerable man, who gave me being,

A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay

To watch his fate, to visit his affliction,

To cheer his prison hours, and with the tear
Of filial virtue bid ev'n bondage smile?"

As civilization advances, and the connexions multiply, this first of the chain of intimate relatives is too apt to be weakened, and few of the heroic achievements of modern times are built on such a foundation.

This tragedy, possessing in it the height of the sublime, and mixing in its leading parts much of the terrific and wonderful, rather tends, in many parts, to horrify than please. Even the first appearance of Euphrasia carries with her rage and tempest, as she cries out

"War on, ye heroes,

Ye great asserters of a monarch's cause!

Let the wild tempest rage:"

and also, further on, where she exclaims

"Come, vengeance, come, shake off this feeble sex,
Sinew my arm, and guide it to his heart.
And thou, O filial piety, that rul'st

My woman's breast, turn to vindictive rage;
Assume the port of justice; show mankind
Tyrannic guilt had never dar'd, in Syracuse,
Beyond the reach of virtue."

Yet even in this play Miss O'Neill exhibited great skill in many of the leading scenes: her solicitation to Philotas in particular was impressively striking her burst of indignation in the following